


Braids and Other Elven Peculiarities

by BeguiledKitty



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Courtship, Cultural Differences, Hair Braiding, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeguiledKitty/pseuds/BeguiledKitty
Summary: Gimli offers to braid Legolas' hair after he gets injured, unaware of what the offer means to an elf.





	Braids and Other Elven Peculiarities

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Legolas messes up his braids during a fight and Gimli offers to comb the elves hair and redo them, Legolas blushes and let's him. 
> 
> Later Aragorn explains to Gimli that Elves consider combing to be an erotic act of sorts. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~ because who doesn't love the canoncal fact that elves only comb thier lovers hair. While you only need to be a close friend/family memeber to braid a dwarves hair. Just imagine the culture confusion

The burns on Legolas’ hands had gone from a nasty red to full blown blisters by the time they made it back to camp. Gimli had a deep distaste for orcs and their cowardly use of fire and boiling water. The elf hadn’t let it slow him down though. He’d continued to shoot arrows until the last had been killed or retreated.

As always, Gimli had to admire his fortitude. He certainly had more nerve than the average elf. 

He was also incredibly stubborn. Gimli watched him slowly and painfully unbraid his hair that night after they’d set up camp. Aragorn was already lying next to the fire, asleep, as he had the mid-night watch, so Gimli was alone in watching the elf’s attempts. When it was finally down it covered most of his ears and a good part of his face. It made his face appear softer and even more elvish, something Gimli hadn’t thought possible. 

While getting his hair down had clearly been a struggle, watching him attempt to put it back up was agonizing. He fingers had lost their deftness to the swelling and strands of hair kept escaping his grasp at each twist. As an elf, the burns would be gone by the morning, but at this rate they’d be healed by the time he managed a single braid. 

Gimli got up and walked over to stand behind him and bent down slightly to bring himself level to Legolas’ hair. 

“Here,” Gimli offered, taking the strands into his own calloused hands. Legolas turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “Let me take care of it.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Legolas said, his pale face flushing. 

Gimli harrumphed. The elf was always acting shocked by simple acts of friendship, like he couldn’t believe he’d found himself in such situations with a dwarf. But after the number of battles they’d been through Gimli thought they were more than well acquainted enough to help with braiding. “Considering you’ve been sitting here grimacing and attempting to do the same braid for several long moments I think it is.” 

He didn’t allow Legolas a chance to protest further, placing a hand on his head and moving it so he was facing forward again. 

Legolas’ breath stuttered, but he leaned his head back to give Gimli better access. Gimli undid the shabby braids and reached into his pocket to grab his own comb, humming as he did. It’d been awhile since he’d braided another’s hair. Legolas’ hair was finer than he was used to and soft to the touch, even after days of travel and battles. 

When he was done brushing he began with the large middle braid, pulling the hair back from Legolas’ face and tight against his head. He’d seen the other do his hair often enough that he could copy the weaving motions easily. It wasn’t as good as a solid dwarven braid, but it was functional enough he supposed. He’d never learned what elven braids signified, or if they had no meanings like the braids of men. If he had to guess he’d assume they were simply supposed to be pretty, as that seemed the number one priority for most elves. 

The side braids were a bit trickier, but hardly a real challenge except for the presence of pointed ears that twitched each time Gimli’s hands grazed them. It was distracting. He finished the left side and gave the ear a teasing pinch like his own mother had always done to him when he’d moved during braiding as a child. The sharp noise Legolas made had Gimli snorting. It figured that he’d be ticklish.

The right braid was easier than the left, Gimli having gotten the hang of the quick and small motions that the braid demanded. He found himself missing his bead box. After all that effort, it seemed a shame not to adorn the braid in any way. 

“Alright, those should last you for a while then,” Gimli said, clasping the elf’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Legolas said as he turned and gave him a tight-lipped smile, face flushed. The pain in his hands must be getting to him more than Gimli had thought. Gimli nodded and went to find his own bedroll.

Aragorn found Gimli next to the river’s edge in the morning, giving his axe a thorough cleansing before the day began. He sat next to him in silence, dipping his own fingers in the running water for several minutes before turning to Gimli.

“Legolas said you braided his hair,” he said. His voice was serious, but when Gimli looked up he looked decidedly uncomfortable. 

“He could hardly do it himself with his hands like that,” he said. 

“And you pinched his ear?” Aragorn asked. He shrugged in agreement. The ranger was overly protective of his elven friend at times, but Gimli had yet to let that stop him from teasing the tall blonde prince. Aragorn sighed, “Legolas came to me and asked what braiding meant among dwarves. I told him it was something one did with family and friends, though I admit I’m not an expert on the subject.”

“It’s a bit more than that, but aye,” Gimli agreed. “It’s also something one does with brothers at arms. A company should always look put together.” He gave Aragorn’s scraggly hair a pointed look, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m assuming you don’t know what braiding means to an elf than?” Aragorn asked, though he clearly knew the answer.

“I don’t know what anything means to an elf. They’re a secretive bunch and before starting this adventure I had no urge to attempt to decipher anything they did. Why?”

Aragorn’s looked back out at the river, his hand coming up to touch the necklace around his neck. “Elves don’t braid the hair of friends, or even family. They only braid their own hair, their children’s hair until they come of age, and their spouse’s hair. And only the latter ever touches, let alone pinches, their ears,” Aragorn said, giving him a pointed look.

“Oh,” Gimli said. He had no other response. He replayed the moment in his head, the flushed face, the twitching ears, the noise that was probably something other than mere ticklishness. “Oh.”

Aragorn nodded, eyes still avoiding Gimli’s own. Gimli coughed, his throat suddenly felt unbearably dry. 

“Surely he could have just gotten up and stopped me. I was a wee bit brusque but that’s never stopped him before,” Gimli said. He was warring between guilt and annoyance. He’d never have continued if the elf had given more than a token protest. He wasn’t some orc. 

“I think, perhaps, he had his own reasons for letting you braid his hair. He seemed disappointed when I told him that braiding was more casual among dwarves,” Aragorn said with false ease. “If you ever want to learn more about elves all you have to do is ask.” 

Gimli grunted in acknowledgement as Aragorn got up to leave, keeping his eyes on his task. He decided his axe was in need of a particularly thorough polishing. 

Gimli thought about what Aragorn had said all day. His gaze kept being drawn to pale ears and even paler hair. He noticed he wasn’t the only one focused on the braids. Legolas’ hand raised to idly touch them throughout the day. Occasionally the act would be accompanied by pinkening ears and would be quickly aborted.

Gimli swallowed, remembering what Aragorn had said about those ears. The sound that the elf had made kept replaying in his head. He found he was desperate to hear it again. He wondered what other noises the elf would make. What he’d do if Gimli placed kisses on his ears instead, or took one between his teeth.

The thoughts made the walk uncomfortable in more than one way. 

By nightfall he’d made his decision. The whole thing was unexpected. but no one could accuse Gimli of backing away from the unknown.

He waited until Aragorn was asleep again before he went to find Legolas. The elf was at the edge of the cavern they’d found to sleep in, staring up at the night sky as he idly oiled his bow string. 

“I see your hands are better,” Gimli said.

Legolas looked down at them blankly, as if he hadn’t realized they’d ever been hurt. “Yes.”

“Well then, I was wondering if perhaps you could do me the favor of fixing my braids tonight, since I did yours last,” Gimli said giving the man a pointed look. 

“Did Aragorn speak with you?” 

“Yes, he did,” Gimli said, keeping eye contact with the elf. 

“Oh,” Legolas said. He reached out long slim fingers and brushed them against Gimli’s thick red braids. “I would like that a lot then.”

For all that Gimli had debated over asking Legolas to braid his hair, signaling his willingness to enter a courtship, the act itself was anticlimactic. Legolas was able to deftly braid his hair with the same agility he completed all tasks. He’d blushed rather prettily, and had let his hands linger briefly on Gimli’s finished braids, but he hadn’t done anything else. There wasn’t even a friendly back pat. Though, to be fair, Gimli had never seen an elf engage in any common signs of affection.

They’d talked as they always did while Gimli got ready for bed. Legolas smiled easily, but Gimli became aware of how much distance the elf naturally kept between himself and others. If Gimli had been traveling with other dwarves he’d have had an arm wrapped around his shoulder as they sat around the fire, friendly head-butts throughout the day, and firm back pats accompanying good points. Legolas always sat on the other side of the fire across from Gimli. Even when he handed Gimli items he did so in a way that their hands didn’t touch. 

The next day, save for a few smiles, everything continued to remain unchanged between them. Legolas didn’t shy away from Gimli touching him or leaning into him as they talked. But he never initiated it. If it wasn’t for the occasional flush Gimli would have thought he’d dreamed up the hair braiding entirely. He had no idea if this was shyness on Legolas’ end, or another elven curiosity.

He approached Aragorn as soon as Legolas wandered off to gather the wood for the fire. 

“What do elven courtships look like then?” Gimli asked gruffly. There was no need to be coy about it, he was certain that Aragorn had picked up on what was happening, or what wasn’t happening as was more the case. 

“It’s different than the courtship of mortals,” Aragorn said. “Like many races they exchange tokens and services, but they aren’t as rushed. There was one elven couple I knew who shared their first kiss 70 years into their courtship.”

“At that rate, I’d be long dead before the final giving of courtship tokens,” Gimli sighed. 

“It’s not entirely hopeless,” Aragorn assured him. Once again, his hand was idly touching his necklace through his shirt. 

“How did you win the affection of your lady love so quickly then?” Gimli asked.

“I was young and bolder than I probably should have been. At first, she simply found my forward advances amusing, but over the years they grew on her. Though, we’re still kisses,” Aragorn said.

“I’d settle and be happy with a kiss,” Gimli said. “Tell me more about these tokens and services.”

Of all the challenges Gimli thought he’d someday face, finding the perfect fallen branch to court an elf with was surely the least likely imaginable. And yet here he was. Aragorn had explained that elves did not believe in wounding living things to create gifts. They did not pluck flowers except from the air as they fell. 

Gimli didn’t have the time or patience to wait for flowers to fall. Instead, he was determined to whittle down some wooden beads for the elf’s faire hair. Of course, not any random wood would do. He examined each piece of firewood he collected, scouring for likely candidates. 

The one he settled on was a strange bluish grey branch that was surprisingly soft. It was the color of clouds and Gimli thought it’d look perfect framing Legolas’ light hair and eyes. He whistled happily to himself as he came back into the camp with more than enough wood for the night. 

Legolas immediately noticed the branch that Gimli had set aside. “Is that Ivin?”

Gimli couldn’t tell most plants apart from one another, but he trusted the elf’s eye. “Aye, I saw it and thought of you, I thought I might,” Gimli paused as Legolas leaned in close, smiling brightly. For once Legolas’ hand actually lingered against his own as he took the branch. 

“Thank you, I haven’t been given Ivin branch since I was a child.” Gimli could only watch as Legolas took it, and then to his horror, bit into it. As he chewed, Gimli adamantly refused to think of the splinters. 

He barely managed to mumble a response to Legolas’ thank yous. He worked on setting the fire and tried to get over the unexpected turn of events. He made no further progress that night in courting. When Aragorn gave him a sympathetic look during shift-change Gimli sighed heavily. 

“He ate the wood I was going to carve a gift out of,” was all he could say. It was still a struggle not to wince at the thought of literally eating wood. He’d always assumed that it was just a rude joke one made about elves. To actually see it happen was something else.

“Yes, he told me. If it makes you feel better, Ivin is considered a delicacy. Usually elves only get it as children during important dates. He thought it was a thoughtful gift.”

“The son of Gloin does not give branches as courtship gifts, no matter how delicious an elf might find them,” Gimli said. 

The next attempt went better. He’d found a fallen olive tree whose red branches were easy to identify. Legolas showed no interest in eating them and Gimli was able to begin to whittle down several beads during his watches. He’d eyed the designs on Legolas’ bow but decided against attempting to mimic the elven designs. He chose to avoid dwarven designs as well, knowing that Legolas still had as many grudges against his people as Gimli had against elves. Instead he worked on carving in delicate leaves. 

Legolas smiled sweetly when presented with them, and leaned into Gimli’s touch when he asked to rebraid his hair. He shook his head a few times with a perplexed look once they were in his hair, but he assured Gimli he loved them, even going as far as to touch the back of Gimli’s hand. Finally, progress was being made.

The next evening Aragorn came up to him while Legolas was setting up the camp. “Legolas has asked me to find a delicate way to tell you that he hates wearing the beads,” he said. 

Gimli was taken aback. “And that was the delicate way?”

“I told him I would try, not that I’d succeed,” Aragorn said. “I figured you’d appreciate blunt honesty.”

“I do, but he could have told me himself. I understand that they may not be up to elven standards,” Gimli began, trying not to get flustered. 

“That’s not it, he really does think they’re lovely” Aragorn assured him. “But with his ears he is able to hear every movement they make in his hair. They’re driving him to the point of distraction. The only thing that's worse is his fear of offending you by taking them off.”

He sighed, letting go over his anger. That was understandable he supposed. “Fine, I’ll talk to him and assure him that I’m not offended by him not wanting to wear the beads.”

Aragorn nodded. “If you really want to assure him I might try to not say it with the tone you just did.”

Gimli ignored him as he got up to find his would-be-courted. 

Legolas was lighting the fire when he approached. Gimli noted the awkwardly stiff angle that he was holding his head. 

He waited for the task to be done before approaching. “Aragorn said that the beads are bothering you,” he said. Gimli tried not to feel guilty over how shamed Legolas looked. 

“I do like them, but they’re all I can hear when I move. I think perhaps they’d be better for festivals or other occasions where I don’t have to rely as heavily on my hearing,” Legolas said diplomatically. 

“Right, well then come on over so I can take them out,” Gimli said. Legolas walked over to him and knelt before him, offering up his hair. Gimli unbraided the hair, palming the beads as he went, and then braided the hair again without them. When he was done he turned and reached into his supplies, pulling out a bit of leather to put the beads on. He handed them back to Legolas, “Until we find a better use for them.”

Legolas nodded, but he looked chastised. Gimli couldn’t help but think that there might be some truth in the saying that dwarves and elves were each other's opposites. Certainly, finding courtship rituals that worked for both of them shouldn’t be such an enigma. 

The next morning Legolas woke Gimli up with a soft touch of his shoulder. He was kneeling down beside Gimli’s bedroll, the soft pink light of sunrise making him glow. 

“I prepared your morning meal for you,” Legolas said, offering Gimli the wooden bowl the elf always ate out of. It was clearly a truce offering. 

Cooking a meal was a common dwarven token of appreciation. He wondered if it was the same among elves or if Legolas had asked Aragorn. Gimli smiled and thanked him as he took it. He hadn’t minded being the only one actively courting, sometimes that was the way it was, but he also certainly didn’t mind being courted as well. It was nice. 

And then he looked down and saw a pile of nuts and several types of moss. None of it looked as though it had been washed, cooked, or seasoned in any way. 

“You shouldn’t have,” Gimli said. 

Either Gimli had gotten better at masking his tone or Legolas was as naive as he sometimes appeared. “I wanted to apologize for not being able to wear the beads,” he said sincerely. 

Gimli nodded. He had fought orcs and all manners of beasts, surely, he could eat some elven food. He grabbed a large handful of moss and put it in his mouth, chewing as fast as possible. It tasted like dew on a Spring day. He could see why an elf might eat it, but dwarves were not so enraptured with nature outside of stones and metals. 

Suddenly the moss began to thicken in his mouth. Gimli breathed heavily through his nose, but the more he chewed the thicker it seemed to get until Gimli nearly felt faint from the lack of air making its way down his throat. The taste had also gotten stronger, more cloying. He tried a few more vicious bites, but the battle was lost. 

Gimli stood up, walked quickly over to some brush away from the camp, and threw up. 

“Are you okay?” Legolas asked, keeping his distance. 

“Let’s just call us even in giving offense and move on,” Gimli said before spitting to get rid of the lingering taste.

The first few incidences alone were unfortunate but fine, but as the days went by the sheer number of mistakes and accidental offense they gave each other became disheartening. After a particularly bad bug related incident Gimli had to call truce. 

“I’ve never had such trouble in a courting,” Gimli said.

“Have you courted many others?” Legolas asked. There was no judgement in his voice.

“When I was a lad, yes. It was nothing serious, I hardly had a full beard at the time,” Gimli said. He felt it’d be crass to explain that it hadn’t been romantic courting he’d been after at the time. “What about you? Surely the Prince of Mirkwood has had his fair share of courters.”

Legolas shook his head. “No one would dare attempt to court me without my father’s permission, and he never met an elf he considered worthy.”

“I doubt Thandruil would be pleased with the thought of a dwarf courting you."

“No, he wouldn’t,” Legolas agreed. “But I am very much pleased with the thought.”

“I don’t imagine an elf and a dwarf have ever attempted to court. I think most would say it can’t be done.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Legolas promised. “I think though we can both agree to stop attempting to surprise each other with tokens and services. Would you be willing to braid my hair again? Perhaps a dwarven style this time, Aragorn said the different styles had meanings among your people.”

“Aye,” Gimli agreed. The thought of Legolas wearing a dwarven style was significantly more pleasing than the matching feather crowns Legolas had tried to have them wear before Gimli had broken out into hives.

“Do you know the tale of the first dwarf to braid her hair?” Gimli asked. 

“No, could you tell me it?” Legolas asked. 

Gimli complied as he began to weave braids in Legolas’ hair. A few weeks ago, he might have gone for a few thick ones, but now he considered how the weight of them falling on the others back would feel. Instead he wove thin but sturdy five strand braids mixed in with the occasional four strands. 

One tale lead into another, and long after they’d both braided each other's hair, they stayed up playfully attempting to outdo each other will the heroic historic figures of their people.

Gimli had just finished off a perhaps slightly exaggerated re-telling of the Fathers of Dwarves when he found himself yawning.

“You should rest,” Legolas said. He hadn’t moved after the braiding was done and was still beside Gimli, their shoulders brushing.

“Don’t think I don’t see you stopping now that you’ve been confronted with the best of the dwarves. We both know you haven’t a story to match,” Gimli said, fighting back another yawn.

“I assure you I do, but we can save it for another night. I was wondering though if perhaps before you went to bed I might be gifted with a kiss?” Legolas said.

“Aye, I think I can do that,” Gimli said. Legolas bent down and places impossibly soft lips against his own. And as Gimli returned the kiss he couldn’t help but notice how perfectly they fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to try writing a Gigolas fic for the challenge, and what better way to jump into a pairing then going straight for all of the most common tropes? Cultural difference between Tolkien races is what I live for.


End file.
